Category: Web

Often it seems certain topics are avoided, not because they’re not important but because it’s not worth weathering the storm. Complex realities, personal emotions, and time pressures seem to be making it too hard to work through things properly (see Notes One). But surely society can’t really move forward while holding onto unresolvable issues, so it seems we do need to find a way beyond it.

I’ve encountered it in writing here: feeling that some topics are either too contentious or too complex to do justice to, and might be better left alone (Notes Two). The question of who has the right to address issues and how to go about it seems a strange problem of our times. But if we step back from that, where do we end up?

If emotions, anger, wounds and defensiveness derail conversations completely then that limits our ability to engage with important social concerns. It seems to risk us not touching on certain things beyond delineating the sides of a conversation that never takes place; creating an interesting stalemate and also a huge challenge.

Topics like anti-social behaviour; the murky area of social ethics; and the wider roles of education, family and culture all fall within this. Who has the right to challenge, decide, and address those issues? Or are they simply systems we live within and have no ground to reflect upon?

Which may be part of the problem: we live within systems as individuals, so we quite naturally defend our place in them. Raising questions around almost anything risks becoming personal, as we each exist somewhere within the networks of privilege or disadvantage that shaped the modern world. Having grown into those realities, we identify with them; so such conversations venture into territories of judgement and self-defence.

At times it seems difficult, if not impossible, to move past that. We’re essentially talking about inherited social realities: situations that fall on our shoulders merely by being born. We might benefit, but we’re not exactly responsible for having caused them. Can we hold people accountable for what was done in the past? We certainly cannot change the past. And holding onto it can sorely affect the present.

Is it possible to separate the personal and elevate this into a social dialogue? Not that the personal isn’t extremely important, but it often seems to act as a roadblock to broader discussions. The subjective matters in that it’s how things affect us personally; but, objectively speaking, it seems we need a way to see things clearly, possibly dismantle aspects of them, and move forward together.

In a way, it seems we need to gain perspective on the fracture lines in society without getting stuck in personal battles of identity. Above all, it’s undeniably a challenge to develop more nuanced and powerful communication: to find ways to take responsibility without being incapacitated by it; to broach difficult conversations with courage and compassion; to realise that responsibility now lies with us. Because I’m not sure there’s another way.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Where’s the right place to talk?
Note 1: Talking through difficult topics
Note 1: Anger as a voice
Note 2: Education with the future in mind
Note 2: Mental health as a truth to be heard?
Note 2: How many aren’t well represented?
Note 2: People, rules & social cohesion

Having written lately about moral standards and collective patterns of behaviour (see Notes One), the question of how actions add up and ways of working more constructively with that seems a natural next step. I mean, we can complain about lack of accountability online and the trends that’s giving rise to; but what can really be done about it?

As discussed in those posts, there are countless occasions where ideas, assumptions, and reactions are voiced online and seemingly merge together into this self-defining reality. Trains of thought get laid out for us and we take them in, share them, or argue against them. People communicate in certain ways and – with no system for redressing it – that creeps into our lives and becomes normal.

Maybe there’s little to be done about that. Systems for regulating online life bubble up every now and again or the businesses running certain sites are called upon to lift the bar in terms of what’s acceptable; but essentially it’s so fast moving and on such a vast scale that any human-based policy or systemic algorithm seems destined to fall short of what we feel is needed.

That might be met with resignation about ‘how things are’, or maybe indignation as we try to reason within that slightly abstract and lawless space. Broadly speaking, the emotions there being apathy or anger: apathy in overlooking problems or withdrawing from them; anger in a raw sense or as a more articulated response.

Which is what it is: we’re right to be upset at these collective spaces being filled with abuse, carelessness, anger, disrespect, and lies; and we’re right to feel slightly powerless in how best to address or engage with that. And all of that impacts us in a very real way, as we’re constantly being exposed to this highly emotive, unregulated content.

And sometimes I wonder whether – rather than waiting for the system to change – the answer lies in each of us: if we might be better off honing our personal sense of ethics and accountability, rather than waiting for an effective regulatory response to appear.

Headlines may pique our curiosity; tempt our desire to judge, to revel in our good fortune; or offer an affirmation of our views and identity. Other stories might gleefully depict another’s misfortune or share titbits about their lives. And there seems a certain satisfaction in fighting your corner and taking others down in that public sphere. Humans are clearly complex psychological creatures and our motivations online are fascinating, if often dark, reading.

But all these individual actions add up and might even be fuelling the fire: demonstrating both the market for that content and our incapacity to regulate ourselves. Modern times are presenting us with considerable challenges to our ways of being and relating (Notes Two); and we could wait for others to start policing our darker sides, or begin holding ourselves more accountable. Maybe there’s an attitude between apathy and anger capable of calmly, consistently, and compassionately articulating our own ideals.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Morality and modern thought
Note 1: Empathy in a world that happily destroys
Note 1: Privacy and our online existence
Note 2: Globalised society finding its feet
Note 2: Tech as an evolving second life

Also Trying to understand our times which spoke in a general sense about slowing down to understand our paths.

It’s interesting to think how businesses essentially decided to put an end to the idea of privacy. That until fairly recently there was a concept, with its attendant conventions, that we now generally accept as unrealistic or antiquated.

Much that takes place online now comes with this ‘entry fee’ of monitoring, access to personal information and indelible marks in a public space. In a way, it’s a fascinating turn of events: how quickly we loosened the reins on our lives in the face of opportunities offered. It’s also fairly daunting, in the sense of how fast that escalated and matured into systems now being developed for advertising and the like.

All this has become an unavoidable aspect of modern life (see Note One), as things move so much faster in the world of technology and it seems unthinkable – or at least economically and socially inadvisable – to fall behind where others are willing to dive straight in and get ahead. But are we wise to simply accept the options presented and go with the flow? Is it ‘right’ to waive our rights to certain things in order not to miss the boat?

These days we’re expected to be online, and if you choose not to or attempt to define your own engagement with it then you’re often judged by others’ standards. Behaviour seems very much guided by tech companies and evolving social codes (Notes Two), with a slight overtone of coercion as we naturally don’t want to miss out or be seen as unduly cautious or old-fashioned in our ways of being.

But it’s a strange situation when you’re constantly shown personal pictures of almost complete strangers, or recommended products and services based on comments you made during ‘private’ conversations. It’s strange to think how much data is being analysed on behalf of hidden interest groups; people apparently planning to capitalise in some way off our lives. It’s also strange, as intelligent and social beings, to be presented with so much information, opinion and emotion that we must mentally filter out for it to become manageable. All of which feeds our personal curiosity, judgement, and disconnection.

Where are our boundaries now? Those boundaries of convention that once separated our private and public lives, the people we know from those we would never meet; the visible or knowable lines of connection and consequence (Note Three). Now, private comments or actions can take on a life of their own, shared beyond all sense of what is ‘normal’. How do we decide what to pass on or pass over, given it’s out there now so we ‘may as well’ look?

It’s true in a way that there’s little possibility for avoiding the loss of privacy: so much happens through technology, and anything that does can be argued as meriting observation. But, in the light of that, do we simply relinquish the notion of privacy and embrace the new standards offered? Or could inner boundaries and conventions still bring force to bear in these spaces?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Tech as an evolving second life
Note 2: “Response Ability” by Frank Fisher
Note 2: Empathy in a world that happily destroys
Note 3: Reality as a sense check

Also Morality and modern thought, which takes a broader look at the place of morality and ethics in our times.

I want to talk here about the need for understanding and a sense of responsibility towards the human permanency of our actions.

In that context, we find modern phenomena such as cyberbullying (as touched upon in this BBC article on teen suicide) or those seemingly plentiful times when the internet turns on individuals or organisations out of a sort of social justice (see this Guardian review of “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed”, a book by Jon Ronson). There’s a certain tendency toward being dismissive or carelessly humorous while real lives are at stake; often targeting others for their perceived mistakes, insecurities, or social isolation. And there currently seems both a lack of accountability for this, and also a struggle to cultivate a powerful social response or dialogue around what’s going on.

On a personal note, I truly believe in the Value of each human being despite any mistakes or limitations; and, as in Mirrors we offer one another, I feel there’s immense complexity in the relationships we seek with others and how that relates to our sense of meaning. I also tend to feel that modern society works against this, as in How many aren’t well represented?; to which technology adds even greater challenges (see Reality as a sense check).

Whether we’re talking about the tragedy of anyone losing their life due to online harassment or the professional consequences others have faced due to overheard comments, it seems the internet now employs shame as a powerful form of “social control” with unquestionable human costs.

With any notion of collective social justice, I find myself wondering where this sense of modern morality arises from. Logically, outside of religion or another shared code of behaviour, where is this objective moral framework? We may have legacies of moral judgement: handed down standards we might adhere to. We may have the habit of using social rejection or criticism as tools for behaviour regulation. But I’m not sure we have a modern dialogue on ethics. So is this more a social sport of shaming others: pointing out people who mistakenly or inadvertently found themselves at the mercy of others, not having fully appreciated the consequences?

For me, this idea of social shame is ill-defined. On the one hand, we are surrounded by cultural images objectifying the human form and declaring our freedom to do with it as we wish; on the other, people are held hostage for applying those standards personally. We live in an online world of perpetual opinion and banter, but those who (often unwittingly) step across “a line” can be hounded on a global scale.

As a society, it seems we’re unclear over the values we now operate by; with derogatory comments and unforgiving attitudes having found a place within mainstream conversations. But it also seems to me that we must find the empathy to stand firmly with the right people: to release our judgements and extend the opportunity for people to emerge from their “mistakes” and be greeted with genuine respect.

With this post, I want to consider the idea of reality serving as a sense check for what we might experience in a more abstract or virtual way online or in other activities.

In making that distinction about what’s virtual both online and in other ways, I’m thinking of questions raised in my posts on “Response Ability” by Frank Fisher and also in Tech as an evolving second life: ways that technology or machine-thinking spills over into other more human or environmental aspects of life. It may seem at times that tech is all there is, given that it’s made its way into so many areas of our lives, but here I want to think again about what is real, what’s actually happening behind all this in the real world, and what we’re creating there.

For example, within the realms of communication, relationships and interpersonal interest; our actions there have a counterpart in real world. Increasingly that is becoming quite detached from reality – we may click Like or send a sequence of messages, which are then received by the other out of context within their quite separate reality. So much of communication – tone, body language, intention – seems lost in the ether, as we must in a way ‘hear’ these messages through the lens of our own perception and voice. It seems to me that much of the reality of the other can be lost, if we are not careful.

And looking at the business world: what’s behind purchases and purchasing systems in terms of human and environmental costs and also market influences? Everything we repeatedly or occasionally buy sits within these realities of its impacts on nature in terms of resources and waste; then within the human or business realities of those people involved in its production and how that company operates relative to others in the commercial world. To my mind, all of that creates real world impacts and perpetuates systems and standards we may or may not be so aware of.

So, going back to the Frank Fisher post, his concern seemed to be that tech distances us from real world consequences, depriving us of important feedback or information about ourselves and our relationships to the world around us. Could that be a valid concern? In doing so much through a user-friendly interface are we living in our own little bubbles, happily distanced from what goes on behind the screens?

Surely every action we take, every word we cast out there has an impact both on others and in how we are choosing to be and to relate ourselves to the world that surrounds us. Are we more careless than we once might have been because these impacts are virtual, invisible to us, out of sight? Maybe taking the time to imagine those impacts might actually have a huge impact on the world.

It’s interesting how society is grappling with technology and social media in terms of how we live, what it means, and in what respects it’s a good thing or needs adjustment.

Now and again videos, articles or artworks appear that spark concern over the implications of technology and how it’s changing us (for example, the videos “I Forgot My Phone” by Charlene deGuzman, “Look Up” by Gary Turk, or Moby’s recent animation for “Are you lost in the world like me”). Themes of loneliness, human relationship and happiness are regularly worked upon by psychologists, journalists and artists as we try to understand all this.

Then there’s the discussions around changes to our thinking (such as the BBC’s “Digital dependence ‘eroding human memory’” among many) looking at how we no longer prioritise knowledge and developing our mind, given we ‘know’ where to find information. Likewise, another recent BBC article questioned the value of face-to-face contact in learning (“Shouldn’t lectures be obsolete by now?”), suggesting it’s ineffective in the face of technology.

Questions around causality and human nature arise in response: Is thinking changing as a result of technology, so people are now more suited to that than to listening to someone? Are people forgetting how to remember now it seems an old-fashioned necessity? Are principles of education and of knowledge being asked to change in light of technology? And is there any deeper social or personal value in being present and working to relate yourself to traditional bodies of knowledge? In doing so, are we recreating realities within ourselves?

My main question with all this though is that surely we’re making ourselves very dependent upon something outside of ourselves. If all knowledge, relationship, psychological security, meaning comes through technology then we seem to have leveraged ourselves almost completely. What do we know or hold within ourselves and our environment after that? Do ‘we’ know or understand anything?

Looking back at the videos mentioned before, there seem to be social, psychological and emotional consequences arising from the spread of technology which are concerning on a purely human level. (On that note, see my recent post on “Response Ability” by Frank Fisher which takes these questions further).

Essentially though, tech is now a core part of our lives and dictates a lot of what we do and how we do so: communication, cultural consumption, everyday logistics, personal habits and lifestyles are all being shaped by it. We can look at all this as creating networks of a virtual world, layered over our existence – a second life woven above and beyond our immediate realities, and maybe replacing them.

It seems constructive, if slightly overwhelming, that these issues are being written about and addressed as much as they are. I just wonder at what point talk leads to understanding and onto change – are we going to be forever circling in these debates and the flood of data, or will we be able to form decisive conclusions on the paths to take?